


"Titania waked..."

by Mendax, randi2204



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Humor, Other, deep and abiding appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendax/pseuds/Mendax, https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin notices something for the first time.  Matters progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Titania waked..."

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters belong to MGM, Mirisch and Trilogy. What we rhapsodize…? Well. *grin*

Chris had that deceptive kind of build, fine-boned and slight, that made folks underestimate him. Seemed downright skinny ‘less you looked real close. Get in a fight with a fella built like Chris, most men don’t expect to get laid out by a punch. Don’t expect the speed it comes at ‘em neither. But Vin had learned long ago to look close and never had any misconceptions about Chris, not even when they first met and he was hidin’ under that long black coat of his. Vin could see it in his stride, in the veined backs of his hands and the set of his shoulders.

So yeah, he’d noticed before. But it’d always been with that same sense of simple awareness of Chris, of Chris’s body. The reassuring sense of strength and purpose, dependable as the sunrise. A body he trusted to do its part the same way he trusted his own, the surety between his eye along the sight to the target and his finger on the trigger.

This wasn’t anything like that at all. Vin had squatted down to scoop more nails out of the box and glanced up just as Chris bent over at the waist to pick up a board, and it was like the whole world just shifted sideways, like breathing in ceremonial smoke and watching yourself from outside. Chris was slim hips and muscular thighs and _no_ man ought to have a backside like that. Rounder and firmer than any saloon girl’s tight-corseted bosoms, and just as alluring. Vin almost knew how it would feel, taut and solid under the cup of his hand, with his fingers curved over the generous swell.

His face flushed and he fumbled the nails. Chris looked at him over his shoulder and frowned. “You all right?”

Vin almost didn’t want to meet his eyes, but when he did everything was back to normal. “Fine. Think I’ll get out of the sun for a spell.”

Chris nodded, traces of concern lingering in his eyes, and tipped his head toward where the canteens rested before turning back to his work.

Vin stood up and took a cautious, assessing glance. Chris’s backside didn’t make his fingers twitch or his mouth go dry despite its hard curves. He certainly had no urge to touch. Maybe he really _had_ been in the sun too long.

Still, he acknowledged, even without all that, it was mighty fine.

* * *

The thing was, once Vin had noticed it he couldn’t un-notice it… or _stop_ noticing it.

He might have found it troubling if he’d had a different sense of Chris than he had.  He knew that him taking note of Chris’s backside didn’t change who _he_ was, any more than it changed who _Chris_ was, and that was a comfort.   They still had the same instinctive trust they’d always shared, so it didn’t bother him as much as it might have if it were anyone else.

So maybe it was because he let himself take a look from time to time that he noticed something else: he wasn’t the only one.  Or maybe it was because Buck didn’t have a thought in his head that didn’t get painted clear as day across his face.

He and Buck were passing the time in the cool shade of the saloon, sipping at their beers when Vin heard the distinctive jingle of Chris’s spurs.  He met Chris’s eyes as he entered, nodded, as Buck, with his back to the door, craned his neck to see who Vin was greeting. 

Chris nodded at them, a tiny smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes.  “Vin.  Buck.”

“Hey, pard,” Buck replied, settling deeper into his chair, long legs stretched out under the table until he was a hair’s breadth from kicking Vin.

Chris stepped up to the bar to ask Inez for a beer.  He wasn’t wearing either serape or jacket, the day being too warm for either, and just for a second, Vin was glad he always sat facing the door.

Then he heard Buck suck in a breath.

Wondering what was wrong, he cut a sharp glance toward Buck, but Buck’s eyes were fixed on the bar.  Vin knew with a sudden certainty that they were fixed on _Chris_ at the bar, and he could practically _hear_ the thoughts running through Buck’s brain, from _What a fine ass Chris’s got_ to _Damn, shouldn’t be noticin’ my ol’ pard’s ass_ to _But it’s so…_ and everything possible in between; they all flashed across his face one right after the other.  Then, just as Chris turned to join them at their table, Buck took a swig of beer, burying his thoughts in his mug. 

By the time Chris sat down with them, Buck was grinning and cheerful again, ready to jaw about any little thing that crossed his mind.

Except for what Vin had just _seen_ cross his mind.

Vin watched him thoughtfully without seeming to, hands folded across his stomach.  _Guess I ain’t the only one,_ he thought.  _That_ was something to ponder.

* * *

Of course, catchin’ Buck out wasn’t so great a surprise, really. Ol’ pard or not, Buck had a lot of appreciation for the finer points of a person’s anatomy, never mind that the anatomy in question was usually part of a lady. Vin figured that Buck’s appreciation just didn’t always know any better, bein’ as generally enthusiastic as it was.

So it also wasn't much of a surprise a couple days later when he caught him at it again.

Some no-accounts had been stirrin' up trouble with the small ranchers. Vin was standing with Chris in the street in front of the jail, horses saddled and ready, waitin' on Josiah to go out and see what they could find. Buck and JD were loungin' in the shade on the boardwalk behind Chris, an' sure enough, Vin saw Buck's eyes slide toward Chris’s backside, then away. Then it wasn't long before he did it again, still jokin' with JD. 'Course, Vin couldn't quite blame him. Chris was wearin' his jacket today. He had one elbow crooked, casual-like, over his saddle horn and stood with his weight shifted to the side. Vin could well imagine the way his raised arm would lift the bottom of the jacket. Figured it must be a right nice view.

Still, he hadn’t figured on JD noticing.

Buck had got wrapped up in one of his tales – the kind that involved gestures too blatant for the public street, eyes mostly closed and face aimed to the sky, seein’ what weren’t there. JD had heard it before, or one enough like it, and his roving gaze lit on Chris just as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. JD’s eyes popped wide and those dark, heavy eyebrows of his lifted almost to his hairline, and Vin’s damn near did too. Hell, he knew JD wasn’t really a kid, but he still didn’t hardly expect him to go noticin’ something like _that_.

JD’s eyes narrowed then, intent and focused, and his bottom lip snuck between his teeth. He looked thoughtful more than anything. Buck’s story was starting to wind down, and Vin wondered if he’d notice, and if he did, what his reaction might be. But then JD’s eyes dropped, and he frowned a little and shifted subtly in his seat.

Then he did it again. And again, and Vin suddenly realized what he was doing – clenching the muscles he was sittin’ on. Seemed JD’s hero worship and wantin’ to be like Chris included all sorts of things Vin wouldn’t’ve expected.

He couldn’t entirely keep his amusement from showin’ this time, and Chris cocked his head at him, then looked over his shoulder toward Buck and JD. A little bit of a smile hovered around his mouth, not knowin’ what the joke was but ready to share in it, and that almost made Vin laugh right out.

Behind Chris, Buck finished his tale and looked over at JD, back in the real world once more. He frowned. “Dang, kid, if you gotta go that bad, just get up an’ go!”

It was too much. Vin’s repressed laughter came out as a snort so loud his horse flinched. Chris gave him a befuddled look that just made him laugh harder as Josiah finally rode up.

“You boys ready to ... what happened to him?”

“Damned if I know,” Chris answered, mystified.

 _An’ we’re all damned if you ever do, Cowboy_ , Vin thought, finally reining in his laughter. “Ain’t nothin’,” he said lightly, with a dismissive half-shrug. “Let’s ride.”

* * *

JD’s noticin’ the… appeal of Chris’s backside was actually kinda subtle – well, for him – and even though Chris had ended up starin’ at _him_ for laughin’ like a fool, Vin figured they’d all gotten away with more than they had any right to expect.

Whenever JD sat alone in the jail, Vin was pretty sure he was flexin’ those muscles, all hidden behind the desk.  Sometimes just thinkin’ about it made him grin, but he was real careful only to think on it when there weren’t anyone around but his horse. __

And to be honest, he also kinda figured that was the end of it.  Oh, maybe he’d catch Ezra out someday, but then again, Ezra didn’t much look at Chris if he didn’t have to. So it was just the three of them, him and Buck and JD, each keeping a tidy little secret that they didn’t think anyone else knew about.

For a while, he was able to put it out of his head altogether – well, almost.  Even though things were busy, every so often Vin would find his eyes wandering toward Chris… or he’d catch JD’s puzzled frown or the thoughts chasing themselves over Buck’s face, and then he’d remember and grin before pushing it aside again. 

Them no-accounts who’d been makin’ trouble a few weeks ago decided they maybe hadn’t had enough.  Vin’d thought they’d been scared plum out of their tiny wits by Chris’s crazy smile, but he knew how gangs like this worked – someone’d put someone else’s back up by sayin’ they was a coward, and that someone else’d be all hell-bent to prove they weren’t.  So they came ridin’ back, just as dumb and even angrier for it.

How Chris got the bullet crease across the back of his shoulders when he always damn well walked _into_ the storm of bullets, Vin couldn’t hazard a guess.  But he saw the blood staining the back of Chris’s serape and hollered for Nathan.  It didn’t look bad, and Chris was still walkin’ and talkin’ and glarin’ at him, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t need to get taken care of.

‘Sides, maybe Nathan mother-hennin’ him would make Chris think more’n just once before doin’ the same damnfool thing again.

“Take off ya shirt,” Nathan ordered as he stoked up the fire in the stove.  “Need ta see how bad it is.”

“It’s nothin’ but a graze,” Chris protested, and his dark eyes flicked over to Vin, promisin’ to get him for this.  Vin just settled into the chair and stared back, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, well, I’m still gonna look.”  Nathan set a kettle to heat on the stove.

Vin hadn’t ever thought anyone could match Ezra for bitchin’ and complainin’, but Chris came damn close.  Once he’d finally got his shirt off, Nathan stepped over with a bowl of hot water, cloths draped over his arm.  “Lay down on your belly.”

Chris shot him a mulish look.  “I’m all right sittin’ up.”

Nathan gave a very long-sufferin’ sigh.  “An’ when I try to clean it out an’ put some carbolic on it, it’ll all run down ya back and not stay where it’s needed. You just lay down and let me worry about doctorin’, all right?”

Once Chris’d finally got himself laid down, Nathan took care of the wound, cleansing it with his usual efficiency, and gripin’ at Chris for gettin’ hurt besides.  When Chris didn’t do anything more than grunt in reply, Nathan just shook his head.

Then he paused in the midst of wringing out his cloth, and, suddenly concerned, Vin leaned forward, about to ask what was wrong.

But whatever he was gonna say just disappeared right outta his head when he saw where Nathan was lookin’.  He knew his mouth was hangin’ open.

Because Nathan – solid, dependable _Nathan_ – was starin’ at Chris’s backside.

It wasn’t long, not even long enough for Chris to start bitchin’ again, and then Nathan was pressin’ another cloth to his back and tellin’ him to sit up so he could finish bandagin’.

Vin slouched back in his chair and somehow managed to get his mouth closed.  He felt like he’d just been caught in a summer storm, dazed by pounding rain and thunder ringing in his ears.  When Chris stood up to carefully pull his bloody shirt back on, Vin couldn’t help but give the firm, perfect shape of his rear a glance filled with awe.

It really weren’t natural.

* * *

The whiskey at Digger Dave’s was just plain awful. Vin doubted there was anything in it that could recognizably earn the name. Ezra hadn’t even tasted it – he’d smelled it in his glass, set it aside with an exaggerated expression of horror and had been pulling from his flask ever since. Chris’d made a face but didn’t let it stop him. Josiah didn’t seem to care, if he even noticed. Vin had switched to beer, but it really wasn’t much better.

What Dave’s had, though, that the Saloon didn’t, was a billiards table. It was a pretty thing, with polished, intricately carved wooden legs and a smooth felt surface as big as several beds pushed together.

Vin couldn’t remember how the topic had come up even, but Ezra had been — or at least acted — all kinds of surprised to hear that Vin hadn’t never played billiards before. Next thing he knew, he’d been roped into playing with Chris against Ezra and Josiah. And seein’ as how Ezra was involved, it weren’t long before there was a fair bit of money ridin’ on it too. Vin wouldn’t have agreed except there was somethin’ about the way Chris argued how many spot points they’d get to make up for Vin’s inexperience that made him think Chris wasn’t much worried.

Once they’d got to Dave’s, though, and the table was all laid out in front of him, with its two red and two white balls and that great expanse of felt, Vin was starting to wish Chris had argued harder. By the time Ezra finished explaining the game, Vin had less idea how it was played than when he’d started.

It made more sense once he watched Ezra take the first turn. Unfortunately, though, that turn seemed to go on an awful long time. An impression that was confirmed by the way Chris’s eyes and mouth both narrowed as he watched the play, as well as by the way Ezra moved around the table, showin’ off a bit and clearly damned pleased with himself.

Chris was next, intense and focused in a way Vin found a mite surprising. Chris tended to not take games too serious, even when he had more money riding on them than might be comfortable. His turn didn’t go on as long as Ezra’s, but it was just as confident, if not near so full of sass. The only emotion Chris showed was when he missed to end his turn, he flashed a hard little grin at Ezra’s muttered, “Well played.”

Vin thought at first Ezra was bein’ sarcastic, even though he didn’t sound like it. But then he took in the relaxed cast to Chris’s shoulders and realized Ezra had been sincere. It didn’t make sense until he saw Josiah staring at the table lookin’ downright glum. He saw it then. Their white ball – his and Chris’s – was set up right by the other one, closing it off near the edge of the table, between it and the two reds. There wasn’t no way for Josiah to get around it to score any points.

Sure enough, Josiah knocked his white ball into the bumper but missed all the others, forfeiting his point and adding it to Chris and Vin’s score, and quickly ending his turn.

Vin gave Chris a glance as he approached the table. “You see what you gotta do?” Chris asked.

He wasn’t so sure. “Seems like,” he said slowly, “I ought to hit like this?” He drew with his finger in the air, describing the line he could almost see stretching between the balls.

He ignored the way Ezra’s lips pulled up at the corner and focused instead on Chris’s considering gaze flicking over the table. Chris ducked his chin in a brief nod. “Should work,” he said. “Long as you can see it. Like takin’ a shot.”

Vin let that idea settle and looked at his line again. He hunkered low over the table like he’d seen Chris and Ezra do, and then understood why they’d both removed their jackets and did the same. It was a little like lining up a sight. He drew back the stick and pushed it forward like he’d seen done. There was a satisfying feel to it, all smooth and solid, and the ball did just what he’d wanted it to. He stood upright with a wide grin that just got wider when he caught Chris’s knowing smirk and the sour look on Ezra’s face.

That sour look didn’t go away, neither. Turned out while Vin had a fair knack for the game, Josiah decidedly did not. He wasn’t losin’ points quite as fast as Ezra was making ‘em, but he sure was helping Chris and Vin a lot more than his teammate. An’ the calmer and more philosophical Josiah was about his bad play, the more riled Ezra got. Made for a right entertaining evening.

Even the beer seemed less foul as he kicked back at the table with Josiah and enjoyed Josiah’s rare mellow good mood — aggravatin’ as it was to Ezra, Vin felt it seep into him like sunshine. There was a camaraderie in watching the other two play; Unlike Josiah, Vin was holding his own, but he couldn’t get the long runs of points like Chris and Ezra.

It was right nice to watch them. Chris quiet in his dark, subdued shirtsleeves, and Ezra snide and flashy in white and gold; Chris’s lean grace against Ezra’s compact sharpness; but both with the same surety of motion, the same narrow-eyed intensity as they studied the table.

And hell, a man would have to be blind to not appreciate the sight of Chris Larabee bent low at the waist with his torso stretched out over a width of felt and that unnatural posterior of his perfectly displayed. Except ... he never woulda’ considered Ezra blind. But despite his one-time thoughts about maybe catchin’ the man out, even in this situation there wasn’t so much as a glance. Every time Chris played, Ezra’s eyes were fixed on the table, the balls, the shot, everything except the man behind ‘em all.

Then Chris had a play that had him leaning over right in front of the table where Vin and Josiah sprawled, and Vin buried his face in his mug of beer to keep from starin’. When he set it down, Chris’s small smile and Ezra’s grimace told him it had been a hell of a good shot even before he heard Josiah’s rumbling murmur beside him.

“The heavens declare the glory of God,” Josiah intoned in that rich voice of his, “And the fundament showeth his handywork.”

“Firmament,” Ezra snapped, clearly all out of patience with anything Josiah might have to say.

Vin looked over. Ezra’s was watching the table, seemingly figuring Chris’s next play, but his lips were pressed thin.

Josiah’s head lifted. “What was that?”

“The _firmament_ showeth his handywork,” Ezra said acidly.

Josiah tilted his head with a broad, pleased-looking smile. “You know your Psalms.”

The look Ezra shot him would have withered a stone, but Josiah only widened his smile and lifted his glass of rot-gut in Ezra’s direction. Ezra rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the game just as Chris bent low for another shot.

“Yes indeed,” Josiah said quietly beside him.

Vin glanced toward Josiah, but Josiah was looking straight at Chris. Or rather, straight at Chris’s backside, with an expression of deep and happy appreciation. Vin must’ve made a sound, because Josiah looked over to him. That pleased grin came back, and he winked. “I still say fundament,” he whispered.

Seemed to Vin that even at a whisper Josiah was loud enough that Ezra – and maybe even Chris – still woulda heard, but neither of them so much as blinked, so maybe it was the shock made him seem louder to Vin.

The thing was, this wasn’t the first time. Vin considered himself an observant man. More observant than most even. But damned if some things that were right out in the open and happened regular didn’t sometimes slide right by a person’s notice.

* * *

So that was five of them.  Vin didn’t think much about calculatin’ odds, but if that many of them noticed Chris’s backside, it just seemed to him that _all_ of them would.  Josiah’s deep (and apparently spiritual) appreciation of that anatomy when he never woulda thought Josiah’d even _notice_ it… well, it made him think that damn near _anything_ was possible.

Includin’ Ezra bein’ snared by the sight of Chris’s rear.  _Hell,_ he told himself, _it could happen.  ‘Slike it’s got magical powers or somethin’._

So Vin set himself to watch close.  He’d missed Josiah noticin’ ‘till it was all but shoved in his face; he’d be damned if he’d miss Ezra.

But the problem with that plan was that Ezra – in typical Ezra fashion – wasn’t cooperatin’.  Vin had thought before that Ezra didn’t look at Chris if he didn’t have to, and now it seemed he’d been right all along.  Only time he ever saw Ezra actually _lookin’_ at Chris was the few occasions they played cards, and even so, that was with a gambler’s eye to tells, not with any kinda appreciation of what Chris was sittin’ on.

Well, just to be fair about it, Ezra _did_ look at Chris when Chris was layin’ out that plan to trap them cattle rustlers, but it was a _Mister Larabee, have you lost your god-forsaken_ mind? look.  And really, he couldn’t blame Ezra for that one, because he’d been thinkin’ it, too.

Ezra didn’t often do things he didn’t want to do, and as far as Vin could tell, he never _stopped_ doin’ those things he _did_ like doin’.  So maybe it was he just didn’t like lookin’ at Chris.  _Hell,_ he thought, _maybe he just plain don’t_ like _Chris.  The way they tangle sometimes… and Chris sure can be a surly sonofabitch._

But even though he had those thoughts – couldn’t help havin’ ‘em, to tell the truth, after having spent considerable time observin’ – Vin couldn’t quite bring himself to stop watchin’.  He spent so much time in his seat in the saloon that he thought he might have the imprint of the chair on his own ass.  But at least there with his back to the wall, he could watch Ezra close, in his natural surroundings, so to speak, and if those green eyes even made a twitch toward Chris’s backside, he’d know.

‘Cept it didn’t work, because Chris took it into his head to be contrary, too.  He didn’t outright abandon the saloon, but he sure stopped in less often than he had, and when he was there, his mood spiraled from _surly_ to _itchin’ for a fight_ after about 2 drinks.

After a couple days of this, Inez marched around the bar and stood in front of Vin, hands planted on her hips.  “Señor Vin,” she said, scowlin’ in a way that was almost pretty, “I am banning Señor Chris from the saloon until his temper improves.”

Vin choked on his drink, and heard it echoed from across the saloon as Ezra did the same.  He wiped off his chin with one hand.  “That ain’t gonna do much t’ _improve_ things.”

“It will improve things in _here_ ,” she shot back.  “He is scaring away customers with his…” She gestured toward her face, the movement sharp and impatient, but her frown was still too pretty.

Ezra made another choking sound, but this time, Vin would wager anything that he was tryin’ not to laugh.

He sighed and pushed away his beer.  “All right, I’ll see what I can do.”

Inez flashed him a smile, blindin’ bright.  “Thank you, Señor Vin.” __

When Chris came down the boardwalk some time later, spurs chimin’ like music, Vin was slouched into one of the chairs outside the saloon.  He had his hat pulled down over his eyes, but he heard a pause, like Chris missed his step or somethin’, before the spurs jingled again.  Only when the worn black boots stopped by his chair did he push his hat back.  “Chris.”

“Vin.” Chris leaned against the support post for the boardwalk overhang, starin’ out at the street like there was somethin’ there to look at.

Vin studied him for a minute, felt more than saw the way his nerves were strung tighter’n a bowstring.  _No wonder he’s in a state_.  He let out a soft breath.  “Heard yesterday Jeb Johnson’s aimin’ to sell that mare, the one he won all the races with last year.”

He was lookin’ in the opposite direction, down the street, but he felt Chris’s gaze land on him, intense as it ever was. “That so?”

He nodded, flicked his eyes back to Chris.  “Thought you might wanna go take a look at ‘er, see if she’s anythin’ you want.  Might make a good broodmare.”

Chris didn’t smile, exactly, but the tension in his face eased some, and his mouth twitched a little, like he knew what Vin was up to but was willin’ to go along with it.  “All right.”  He pushed off the post and headed down toward the livery.  Vin followed.  Chris was wearin’ his duster, and he heaved a silent sigh. _Least I won’t miss Ezra starin’ today_ , he thought, and hurried his pace to match Chris’s long stride.  _Well, guess there’ll always be some other time…_

* * *

Ezra leaned back against the headboard, legs stretched out comfortably, and sipped at his drink.  He’d just gotten settled when the door – which he’d helpfully left unlatched – was pushed open and Chris entered.  He paused just inside the door, shutting it firmly behind himself.  As Ezra arched an eyebrow, Chris slanted him a look, lips curving silently upward, then shrugged out of his duster and draped it over the chair.

Ezra relaxed even further into his pillows, watching admiringly as Chris moved toward the dresser.  Chris’s shoulders and back were no longer stiff with tension, he noted, pleased and relieved in equal measure.  _Perhaps it was a good thing after all that Inez barred him from the saloon_ , he thought, taking another sip.  He caught Chris’s amused gaze in the mirror, and smiled back.  Chris undid his gun belt, catching the heavy end with the grace of long familiarity as it fell free, then coiled it on the dresser near Ezra’s own.

As Chris turned his attention to the boot jack by the dresser, Ezra let his eyes rove further, across the span of his shoulders, down his back as it narrowed to his hips, lingering over the swell of his derrière, outlined so… spectacularly by the tight fit of his trousers, down the long length of his legs, then back up again.

It was a very fine view.

 _And I’m fairly certain that might be the reason for Mister Tanner’s sudden attention,_ he thought, taking another small sip of whiskey.  _He wants to catch me starin’ at Chris’s… admittedly quite stunnin’ backside._

In the past, Chris had laughed when he’d brought up the way the others noticed his rear.  “It’s just the part I sit on,” he’d replied, “ain’t nothin’ to stare at.”

 _Oh, no, indeed, Mister Larabee,_ Ezra thought, indulging himself as Chris bent slightly to tug off his socks, _nothin’ at all worth starin’ at._

He hadn’t yet decided what to do about Mister Tanner watching him so closely.  In all, it had been rather a relief when Inez had decided to bar Chris from the saloon, if only because it meant Vin couldn’t keep studying _him_ while he was off trying to cajole Chris out of his ill-humor.  _I shall have to devote some more thought to the matter,_ he thought.  _Something worthy of the snarling I have endured the past couple days…_

He was snapped out of his reverie by Chris kneeling astride his legs, pinning him to the bed.  Chris grinned down at him and plucked the whiskey glass from his hand, emptying it in one short swallow.

Ezra gave him a mock scowl.  “I was drinkin’ that.”

“No, you weren’t,” Chris countered, stretching to set the glass on the bedside table.  He’d unbuttoned his shirt while Ezra had been distracted by his thoughts, and now it gaped open, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of golden skin.  “Sure were thinkin’ hard about somethin’, though.”

It wasn’t often that Chris came at something even that obliquely.  Ezra smirked up at him, hands sneaking inside Chris’s open shirt to smooth down the warm skin of his flanks.  “You were undressin’ in my room,” he said, and moistened his lips.  “What _could_ I have been thinkin’ so… _hard_ on?”

Chris bent down to take his mouth in a kiss he could only call _fierce_ , even as Ezra arched away from the pillows to meet him.  His fingers stroked down Chris’s sides, over his hips, then slid around to grip the muscled curve of his ass, pulling him closer even as he ground upward off the bed.  Chris groaned into his mouth, pressing him back down, then he pushed himself upright again, panting, and started to work on the buttons of Ezra’s shirt.

Ezra dragged his hands away from Chris’s backside, up under his shirt once more.  _Keep on watchin’, Mister Tanner,_ he thought, breath catching as Chris’s callused fingers skated over his chest.  _I don’t have to sneak peeks durin’ the day when I get my fill every night._

### 

August 20, 2011

**Author's Note:**

> Title (courtesy of Mendax) from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, III, ii , line 34. The full line is "Titania waked, and straightway loved an ass."


End file.
